Cause it would be a lie
by Timjana
Summary: Sherlock needs to explain to Molly his phonecall from Sherrinford, just when Molly thought she had it pulled together.


_This was with ease the most difficult step in his life.  
_ _It shouldn't have been. It was only about emotions.  
_ _But then again…_

Knocking.  
Intrigued Molly looked up with immediate remorse. Everything within her seemed to tighten up. For just a moment, breathing was impossible.  
Her hands bloody from the very dead person on her table she looked at Sherlock.  
Of all persons, it had to be Sherlock.  
She left it behind.  
She locked it away. That whole conversation was locked far away.  
After a night without any sleep. A night of sniffing, crying, and uncontrolled sobbing, she locked it away deep inside herself, not to interfere with her life furthermore.

Why did he knock? He never knocked.  
Her heart, at any rate, was pounding inside her chest.  
However, Sherlock… does not knock.  
He does come in. He bursts into a room. He demands – without knocking. He asks. He astonishes. He startles or rattles one.  
Nevertheless, he never knocks.

There was a big lump in her throat, making it seemingly unmanageable to speak. Still she accomplished to force a squeaking "What" out of it.  
What do you want? What are you doing here? Why are you just standing there, staring at me?

Even though, she herself was frozen. She could not move at all – and then again she could.

Finding it was Sherlock alone, with his presence and being, that made it impossible for her to move, she restored her liberty. The liberty to move in fact. She was above this.  
The shock transformed to enervation. She frowned before moving back to her cadaver. Well it could wait – for a moment – and so she ditched the medical gloves. The screeching sound of the rubber being pulled off was unspeakably loud within the silence within the morgue.  
Looking back up the lump was gone and her usual 'Sherlock's around' feeling pulled in.  
That was no reference to a good feeling. Oh no, not at all. It was that mixed feeling when you love someone nevertheless knowing your loves is unreturned. It was that nasty feeling in your guts. Something between butterflies and a chainsaw and you are never able to tell, which one it was. It was the perpetual dream of love that is forever friend zoned. Still she learned to live with that. That kind of feeling she accepted for quite some time now. Even his phone call couldn't change that fact, yet her tone was icier then she intended.

"So? What was this all about?"  
Surely, there would be a perfectly neat explanation. There always was. She knew he had reasons. There was nothing without cause with Sherlock Holmes. He had no reason to mock her.  
Only once, he had actually mocked her. Only once and he did not meant to. He apologized immediately and that actually in a very comforting way.

Now here he was.  
He was looking uncertain, which of course made Molly insecure.  
It opened up a part of her heart she carefully had locked away. However, this was Sherlock…

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"  
… she was not able to keep it inside.  
She could see it in his eyes. For once she was able to read him like an open book. Something was amiss and it was making him suffer.

"I…" His voice broke and brought Molly back to frowning.  
The conclusion came unasked. This wasn't about a case. Whatever it was, he had no plan, no idea how to handle it. This was wrong. Sherlock never lose track. He's not stuttering when he talks. Sure, you could pick him by surprise and he may hesitate, but afterwards is back in charge and completely focused.  
"Sherlock. Why have you called me? Why did you press… these words?"  
She knew she was helping him. She made it easy for him and a whole lot harder on herself. Her beautiful wall, built up stone by stone, tear after tear, was quavering. It had cracks already and it wouldn't take much to take it down now. Not if she herself was pulling on it, by helping Sherlock out. And she did.

"It was a code."  
His words gained focus. He seemed determined again, as if he had come to a decision.  
Molly understood she would not like this decision at all.  
"A code to what? Why me?"  
"A code to deactivate the bomb, though there never was a bomb actually, we found out later and it's not as if I had any saying in who to call."  
So precise. So detached – almost. So Sherlock.  
"A bomb that would have been for…?"  
She asked on. There was more to it. She could tell by his hesitation.

"… you."  
"Me…?" It was only a cracked whisper from her lips.

On the short silence followed a thoughtful nod and after which he began to explain in a long and his very fast way.

However, Molly couldn't follow. In fact, she didn't even listen to him speaking. Her wall was trembling; the first bricks were falling down already. She wanted to stop it. With all her heart she tried to keep up the stones in their space. In an attempt to stop him talking, she raised her hand, whereas she repeated with failing voice what he just laid down on her.  
"I… I had to say that… that… those words, in order that I did not get ripped apart by a bomb?"  
She wasn't certain if the given outcome was for the better. Not at all.  
"Hypothetical bomb. It wasn't real. Still I fell for it and… did something far worse… I think."  
Another brick fell.  
Keep it together.  
Molly gasped for air. She wanted to crouch down and hide somewhere, where no one was able to find her. She wanted to shut him out. She wanted to cry, to scream and shout all at once. But she couldn't. Instead, she nodded stiff.

 _You didn't win, you lost. Look what you did to her.  
_ _Look what you did to yourself, all those complicated little emotions, I lost count.  
_ _Emotional context, it destroys you, every time._

She had closed her eyes. She heard him moving, but she wasn't listening.  
Therefore, his embrace came over her like an icy wave of the sea. Again, she gasped, lunging for air and something to hold on. All there was was Sherlock.  
The wall blew into thousand pieces. There was no way to keep it together anymore, while she was clasping on Sherlock. Moreover, he didn't move away. He was just there, embracing her, not saying anything.  
There was no room for words.

She had no track of time. Eventually his hold loosened up. Her tears had run dry and her pulse was on a normal kind of rate again. Quietness lay in the room between the pieces of her broken wall and a new feeling was filling in. A warm, peaceful Impression. One that scared her, in its very own way.

"Molly."  
"No…", she objected instantly to stop him talking. Instead of letting him speak, she raised her own voice. Even though, she missed the courage to look up at him, while talking.  
"Say, it wasn't true. Say, you just wanted to save me. Say, you didn't mean it."  
"I can't."  
"Why?"  
"Cause it would be a lie."  
Now only Molly pushed him away. Only far enough to be able to see his face. Far enough to meet his eyes.  
"What...? You mean…?"  
There was small though sad smile appearing on Sherlocks lips.

And there she recognised the problem. The sole problem. It wasn't about love. Now she heard him say it, she understood. It never was about not loving her. He'd always loved her. He had mocked Jim, whilst he never said anything alike about any of Johns Girlfriends. He'd mocked her attempt to impress someone, only to find he was the subject of her effort. He'd apologized. He'd apologized to others, when she tells him to. He'd thanked her. Even if he needed her to turn up and prepare a body for his fake death, he'd would not needed to stay with her.  
He trusted her.  
He'd wished her happiness, because she earned it.  
And there was his point, wasn't it?  
In his eyes she deserved better then him. He couldn't make her happy. He didn't earn happiness.

"You're wrong, you know?"  
"What?", he seemed confused.  
"You do deserve happiness too."  
"Molly, I'm… not good…"  
"… enough? You can't actually state that."  
"Not good enough for you", he corrected her with that deep sadness in his expression.  
"I'm not what you are looking for", he declared and left Molly in disapproval.  
"So what am I looking for then?"  
He made an struggle to answer, but stopped himself before even a word left his lips. Instead, silence followed. Her eyes fixed on him she demanded another deduction form him.  
And there it came.  
It was written in his eyes. The Conclusion had come to him and took down another wall. His body froze with the awareness and this state of vulnerability raised a smile on Molly.  
On the spur of the moment, she lift to her toes and pecked his lips.  
There was no reaction. She didn't object.  
"I will be here, if you need me", she whispered instead.  
With a smile on her lips, she went back to her table, put on the gloves again and payed her attention to the cadaver.

 _… he'd always been the emotional one._


End file.
